


My Angry Valentine

by Professor_Maka



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Maka/pseuds/Professor_Maka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spartoi is on a mission to get our favorite death scythe to finally make a move on his meister for Valentine's Day. Will they succeed? Cracktastic SoMa fluff with a heaping helping of Black*Star and a side of Spartoi. Now a collection. In the latest, "The Valentine," Maka gets an anonymous valentine and decides to find out who sent it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Angry Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> This is cracky and fluffy SoMa, with a heaping helping of Black*Star and a side of Spartoi. The last section has an odd frame set up that may make it a bit confusing, but I think I've managed to keep it in line. Happy Cheesy Commercial Love Day!

The question of what to get his not-girlfriend for this hyper commercial pseudo-holiday was becoming a real problem. For years, Soul had simply gotten her nothing. After all, Maka wasn't his girl and he hated the cheesy so-called lover's holiday anyway, so why would he bother? But, dense as he could be, even he had noticed that his meister looked increasingly disappointed each year he did nothing, so last year, he had finally taken her cue to quietly show his appreciation.

Because Maka had  _never_  just ignored the holiday. Oh, she didn't talk about it, and they tended to make fun of the whole idea of Valentine's Day together, but every year, his favorite sweets would magically appear on the kitchen counter just on that day, his favorite meals would be prepared, and a new cd of something he liked would mysteriously end up on his desk. At first, he'd thought it a fluke—that Maka just  _happened_  to buy some candy that day, just  _happened_  to make some of the things he most liked, that he must have bought the CD himself and forgotten. Then it happened the next year, and then the next, and eventually, he put two and two together and decided he should probably do the something for her. So last year, he just  _happened_  to bake red velvet cupcakes—her favorite—and leave them on the counter just before bed the night before Valentine's Day. Then, he just _happened_ to get up early and make her breakfast as he did every so often, And he _just happened_  to fill her iPod full of new music he knew she'd like and leave it on her desk, where the next book in the series she was reading also just  _happened_  to appear. For the first time he could remember, Maka seemed really happy that Valentine's Day, and he couldn't help but to feel a little proud he'd finally caught on and gotten it right.

Soul had been all set to do the same this year, all set to repeat those small, quiet gestures, when Black*Star forced his hand. It happened when the death scythe stopped at his locker for a forgotten notebook; since Maka had been all over his ass about needing to take notes lately, it made life easier if he looked the part, even if most of the time he was really just doodling crappy music. The blue-haired meister had clapped a hand on his back just as Soul shut his locker, effectively cornering the surprised scythe.

"So, dude, watcha doin' for Maka for the big day?"

"Wha?" Soul raised both eyebrows in surprise before reschooling his face into practiced boredom, shaking his head. "I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about."

"Valentine's Day, bro," Black*Star rolled his eyes as if he were patiently dealing with the biggest moron on the planet. Soul just shrugged and ignored him. Black*Star might be his 'bro,' but he could also be an annoying, nosy pain in the ass. No, scratch that, he was almost always an annoying pain in the ass, he just wasn't always this nosy. Why the fuck did he care?

"Dude—hello? Don't tell me you forgot to get her something—"

"Why the fuck—" Soul cut him off when it was clear that the assasin wasn't going to drop this idiotic line of questioning "—would I get anything for Maka for Valentine's day? She's my meister, not my girlfriend."

"Seriously?" the other boy scoffed with a shake of his own head. "Look, man, I know you aren't from around here, but you've lived here now, what, five years? More? All this time and you never realized that partners  _always_  do shit for each other on Valentine's day? Look, maybe out among the peasants," the meister waved his hand vaguely around, "they care about love or whatever the fuck, but around here, there's nothing more important than your partner, catch me? I mean, jeezus fuck, does that mean all this time you and Maka have been partners you've _never_  done anything for her on Valentine's day? No wonder she's so damned grumpy. You're a fuckin' moron, dude, straight up."

"Fuck," was all Soul could manage. Was that really—true? Had he really fucked this up for so long? Maka had always done little things, and frankly, he couldn't be arsed to pay much attention to what other people did on such a ridiculously commercial holiday. "Fuck," he repeated, putting his head in his hands. If Black*Star was schooling him on how to treat your partner, he really was an idiot.

"Soul, bro!" Black*Star clapped him on the back again in a gesture of solidarity. "Your god's got your back. It'll be fine. You just make it up this year, make the big gesture, show 'er you know you fucked up, ya know?"

"Don't people do  _anything_  normal in this death damned place?" Soul groaned. "I mean, I get dozens of fucking valentines shoved into my fucking locker every damned year…"

Black*Star waved a hand. "Oh, yeah, people do that sappy love shit, too, but everyone does something for their meister or weapon. Like, this year, Kid is taking the girls to Cancun. Harvar's getting Ox that ereader he's been wanting, I'm making my goddess a special dinner and ta—"

"But you and Tsubaki are together," Soul scoffed.

"I'd do it even if we weren't," Black*Star assured him; the way he sounded like he was talking down a wayward child made the normally calm death scythe feel like punching something, preferably his friend's face. He clenched a fist but stilled the uncool impulse.

"Shit, even Kilik is getting the twins passes to Disney.  _Everyone_  does shit for their partner. And now, you gotta do something  _good_ because you've totally screwed the pooch until now." The assassin tapped his chin thoughtfully. Black*Star so rarely did thoughtful that it was starting to make the other boy nervous—on top of anxious, and guilty, and the myriad of other emotions that this entire ordeal was forcing on him.

It was far too quiet, with the blue haired would-be god actually  _thinking_  for once, and the halls so empty. So. Empty. Wait…

"Fuck!" The scythe exclaimed yet again. "We gotta go, we're late, and Maka's gonna k—"

"What?" Star looked around for a moment and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess she is gonna be pissed. Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out, man." Soul had already started walking, but Black*Star was still standing near the lockers—likely ditching again. Soul didn't have time to do anything about it; since Maka really was going to kill him for being late again, actual ditching was not an option.

His head full of his encounter with Star, Soul hurried off to class feeling every way totally fucked.

A few hours, and a healthy Maka chop later, the scythe was in his room, listening to loud music and pondering his current predicament. There were many problems with this situation, not the least of which was that he actually was in love with his meister and had been for years; she just didn't seem to return the sentiment. In truth, cheesy and commercial as the holiday was, he would gladly sacrifice his dignity on the altar of all things sappy and ridiculous, would immediately give up his cool card if it would make her happy, would set up his own altar to cheese and commercial crappola if it meant she loved him too and would consent to be with him.

This meant that navigating his current situation was tricky. Very tricky. How did one scream appreciation from the rooftops without it looking like love, even if love was really what it meant? How did one do Valentine's Day without—well— _doing Valentine's Day?_

Part of him just wanted to tell Black*Star to shove off, to do what he'd done last year, mirror his meister's subtle gestures, and call it a day. It seemed so much more  _them._  At the same time, if he'd been fucking up for so long and so many people were doing such big things, wouldn't it just highlight what a crappy weapon partner he'd been about this? Fuck, he wished he could ask Maka, but she was the  _one_  person he couldn't ask and it made him want to tear his hair out.

Two days. He had two days until this stupid cheesefest would commence. Two days to figure out how the fuck to make up for years of having had his head up his ass about Death City traditions. Fuckity fuck fuck.

So he couldn't ask Maka. Maybe someone else? Star? No, fuck Star. He'd just tell him to do something godly or whatever the fuck. Kid? Kid might give him good advice. Then again, he might tell him to do something symmetrical—Kid was always a crap shoot. Liz and Patti were out; they'd read too much into it, Death City tradition or not. Actually,  _everyone_  was likely to read too much into it if they knew, which he didn't exactly mind, but really, it was also none of their damned business and he was pretty sure Maka would mind a hell of a lot if more rumors about them started flying. He could ask Tsubaki, but Tsubaki told Star everything and he really didn't want to give that blue-haired asshole any more reason to give him shit. Besides, he  _knew_  what Tsubaki would say:  _you know her best, Soul-kun. You're her weapon. What do_ you _think she would want?_

That was the question of the day, wasn't it? And the thing was, he  _should_ know. He was her weapon; he spent half his time in her head and almost all of his time in her presence. But what that told him was that Maka wasn't a creature of the grand gesture, but of more subtle things, smaller gestures. Maybe he could put some of those smaller things together to make a big thing, the whole being as great as the sum of its parts? That was a start. What were things Maka liked him to do for her?

Play piano. She loved it when he played, and he'd done that more often since everything on the moon, but still not enough for her tastes, and certainly not just for her. Okay, play piano, he could do that. Dress up. Maka was always telling him he should dress up more, wasn't she? To look nice and do something different? He could do that, too. There were several things he didn't necessarily like to do that she wanted him to do, now that he thought on it. Maybe he could make this work… yeah… he could definitely make this work. And suddenly, happily, Soul had a plan. Two days would be plenty of time and finally, this year, he wouldn't look like a total fuck up.

—

Honestly, the world had gone mad. Maka was about to start scanning for Asura again because everyone had gone bloody crazy this year. Kid taking Liz and Patti to Cancun? Kilik taking the twins to Disneyland? Harvar getting Ox a freaking eReader and Ox getting Harvar new Ray Bans? Jackie taking Kim to Vegas overnight for dinner and dancing? Since  _when_  did people do this sort of over the top crap on Valentine's Day for their  _friends?_  Okay, so maybe Jackie had unrequited feelings of more than friendship for her meister, and maybe Ox was fairly pissed about these plans, but even still… the very fact that Jackie's plans for Kim had trumped Ox's was mind boggling. It was out of hand, and Maka had no idea what people were thinking, but, preferring not to get in the middle of—well—whatever this utter craziness was, she remained silent and watched with some mixture of amusement and skepticism.

At least the school day was almost over and she could go home with Soul and they could relax together and bemoan the ridiculousness of the entire mess. Maka had already done the small things she liked to do for him—the type of things friends did for friends on a day like this, quiet reminders that he was important to her—and had only left to make him fish for dinner. She made a face at the thought, the idea of stomaching fish for him somewhat nauseating, when she felt a pencil poke at her arm.

"Oi, what's crawled up your ass and died?" He had his head resting on one arm, one startlingly red eye cracked open and gazing her way lazily.

"Nothing," she swatted his arm, the one with the pencil, playfully. "Just thinking about dinner." She expected him to give her a hard time. She didn't expect him to sit up, scratch the back of his head, and look sheepish.

"'Bout that. I made plans."

"You made…plans? What type of—"

"I left some clothes in your locker. Just, change and meet me at our balcony after school, yeah?" He was unsure, nervous, she could feel it in his wavelength, yet he had on that unflappable mask of boredom.

"Soul…" her tone was a warning. This felt all wrong and she wanted to know what was going on.

"Just trust me, okay? Please?" The bored mask had shattered, replaced by something like pleading.

"Oh…okay," she said, too surprised by the shift, the oddity of his behavior, to keep up the argument.

"Great," he said, his mouth turning up into that soft smile, rare and wonderful, that made her feel weak in the knees, before his face reformed into his default look of boredom. An instant later, his head was back on his arm and his eyes were closed again. Maka shifted her gaze to the front where Stein was still busy taking apart a dove since, as he had put it, "this day is about love, and a dove is  _the_  symbol of love." Only Stein.

She let her eyes stray once again to the boy dozing next to her. Apparently, the crazy now extended to her weapon. What the hell was up with this place today? Was there something in the water? Since  _when_  did her weapon make plans for them  _on Valentine's Day?_  Hell, up until last year, the boy had basically ignored the existence of the whole thing with the exception of the occasional snark and their now yearly tradition of watching the cheesiest romcom they could dig up to play MST3K. And now, suddenly, her perennially apathetic weapon had  _plans?_  For _them_  no less?

Death's balls, it made no sense, no sense at all. It couldn't be  _romantic_. Her partner had made it crystal clear from the time they were adolescents that he was never going to be interested in her  _that way_ ,and if Maka maybe had such feelings herself, feelings that left her breathless, feelings that scared the living hell out of her, well, she'd gotten very, very good at stuffing them down into the deepest, darkest recesses of her soul where he would never, never find them. And anyway, Kilik certainly had no romantic intentions towards the twins, Kid was about as romantic as a toaster, and Ox was into Kim, not his weapon, so there was no way all of this was about romance. She just wished she was in on the joke, whatever it was. She hated, really hated, feeling so desperately out of the loop. The scythe meister was tempted to ask Tsubaki what the hell was going on, but she loathed admitting that she didn't have all the answers, and besides, Tsubaki and Black*Star were the one pair who had any business doing all this big gesture love day garbage in the first place, so the shadow weapon might not actually  _know._

Maka blew her bangs up out of her face in frustration, causing Soul to crack open an eye again. She ignored him, and he closed it again. She'd figure it out soon enough, because Soul was going to tell her what the heck was going on if it killed them  _both,_ she'd make sure of it.

When Soul rushed off after their last class, she couldn't be surprised—he  _had_ warned her. Maka slowly made her way to her locker, removed the bag her partner had left for her, and then walked to the girl's locker room to change. She had no clue what this was about, not really, but she'd agreed to meet her weapon and she wasn't going to find out just  _what in the seven layers of hell was going on_ without going through the motions.

What  _did_  surprise the scythe meister was what she found in the bag. It was a dark green dress, strapless, short, and dressy, and a pair of fancy black heels, along with a small jewelry box that contained a little gold necklace with angel wings. Had Soul  _bought_  all of this? She certainly didn't recognize any of it!  _What in Death's name?_  Soul really  _had_  gone crazy, clearly. Confused and beyond irritated at feeling so in the dark, Maka quickly donned the dress, shoes, and necklace and, deciding to play along, undid her pigtails to brush out her hair, tying a small amount up in back with one of the black silken ribbons she'd worn to school that day. She inspected herself in the floor length mirror critically. The dress was fit and flair and highlighted her modest curves in such a way that made her look, well, pretty damned good, actually. She'd sort of known Soul had good taste in women's clothes from the black room, but to see it materialize in everyday life still floored her. The heels gave her an inch, and accentuated her legs, and her hair actually looked nice, considering. She was fit to be seen, anyway, which was all that really mattered. She pulled the little lipgloss she always carried out of her bag and applied it, and, satisfied, returned to her locker to stash her book bag and the bag Soul had left. The halls were nearly empty because most people had rushed home to do their own Valentine's Day penance, but there were a few stragglers, and she got more than a few second looks and raised eyebrows. Well, let them look; all Maka wanted was to get to the bottom of this nonsense so that she and her weapon could both get on with their lives.

—

To say that six people, a laptop, and several portable monitors all crammed into a utility closet was a tight squeeze was a drastic understatement. None of them was willing to leave, however, especially when the show was just about to start; Soul was long since in place, and Black*Star had assured them that Maka was on her way to the balcony when he had arrived just a minute ago. Most of the group was huddled around the screens eagerly, watching a sharply dressed but nervous looking Soul pace in front of a fully set and stocked table and chairs, the camera microphone just picking up his quiet humming of bits of Moonlight Sonata. All but Kid, who looked extremely uncomfortable pressed against the door behind the taller of his two weapons, but who also seemed unwilling to actually leave, and Tsubaki, who had backed herself into the corner opposite Kid and was twiddling with the end of her hair nervously.

"Are you…sure we should be doing this?" she finally asked, addressing the backs of her friends.

"Shhhhh!" was the nearly universal reply.

"But…don't they deserve…"

"Look," Liz whirled on her, one hand cocked on a hip, her elbow inadvertently finding Patti's stomach in the confined space, who grunted her discomfort. "We've, all of us, been waiting, and waiting, and WAITING for those two to catch a clue. I don't know about you, but now that we put together this whole ridiculously elaborate load of bullshit to get loverboy down there to make a move, there is no way in  _hell_  I'm gonna miss the fireworks. So either leave or pipe down and enjoy the show, will ya Tsu?"

"Mmm… I…" The hair twiddling continued for a moment before Black*Star grabbed his weapon's hand and pulled her close to his side.

"They'll never know, and really, if any of us goes now, Maka might notice. It'll be fine, Tsubaki. Trust your god." He flashed her that cheesy grin that always somehow managed to melt her heart, and she nodded.

"I guess…" She still looked uncertain, but stopped twiddling her hair in favor of holding her meister/boyfriend's hand. She really  _did_  want to see what happened, she just felt like a bad friend for misleading both of the death scythe and his meister so badly. Well, hopefully, everything would work out and it wouldn't matter. Hopefully.

Suddenly, the click of high heels was heard from the speakers and everyone's attention snapped to the center screen. Soul's eyes had moved up, and he had a slightly openmouthed look of surprise, his gaze fixed on something a few feet away, before his jaw snapped shut and the object came into view. The object was a person, and that person was Maka, who looked good if the "huh" from Black*Star and lowly muttered "dayum" from Kilik were any indication.

"Did Maka-chan buy that for—" Tsubaki was surprised her friend would dress up in quite that way for this sort of meeting.

"Nah, Soul did it. Dude knows his shit, too. I wanted to jump down and revoke his man card the whole time I tailed him, but damn son, looks like he did alright."

Everyone threw the assassin a look, including his weapon, but he just shrugged.

"What? So tiny tits cleans up nice. Any fuckin' moron could tell you that. Now, shhh…shit's about to get real."

Maka had finally crossed the space to stand in front of her weapon, uncomfortable enough in heels that the movement had been slow going. She put both hands on her hips as she glanced over at the laden, candlelit table, and then back at him.

"Soul? What..is all this?" She sounded unsure.

"Um, well—why don't you sit down?" Soul scratched the back of his neck nervously. "There's food, and, uh—" he blinked down at her, at her mouth as it flattened into a thin line. "Oh hell, Maka, just calm down and sit, would you?"

The group in the little room watched on the monitor as Maka huffed, shook her head, but complied, crossing to sit on one of the two fancy little chairs Soul had dug up from Shinigami knew where. Soul trotted over to the little iPod docking boombox to one side of the table and switched on some soft jazz.

"Shit, we won't be able to hear now!" Liz swore.

"Nah, we're good. I had Star plant a mic under the table," Kilik grinned as he fiddled with the laptop to zoom the camera closer in on the table.

As they returned their attention to the monitor, Soul had taken a seat across from his meister. who was eyeing him with a face that kept shifting between skepticism and awe before finally settling on something more neutral.

"So?"

"Well, if you wanna lift the cover, there's dinner. I, uh, got some pasta delivered from that fancy place downtown you wanted to try." He lifted his own cover to illustrate the point, which had some sort of intricate looking noodles in whitish sauce underneath.

"Soul…" It was her warning tone again, the one she had given him already twice that day. It was accompanied by a loud rumbling sound and a gasp of "Patti, I thought you ate!" by Liz and a round of "shhhhhh!" from everyone else, including Kid, who had seemingly gotten past whatever was holding him back, since he was now crowded close behind Patti, eyes glued to the small monitor.

"I did! It just looks  _really_  good," Patti whined, but got nothing else out because Soul was talking, and Liz put her hand over her sister's mouth with a loud "shhhh," which earned her a further round of "shhhhhhh!" from the rest of the room before everyone's attention was back on the screen.

"…so I thought it might be nice to have dinner, to, uh, show that I appreciate you. As my meister, I mean…" he scratched the back of his head nervously again. "Isn't that what you do on Valentine's Day? Show your partner how much you appreciate them?" Maka went scarlet, her eyes flying from the face of her weapon to her food, which she had uncovered at some point.

"Um, I guess," she muttered, clearly confused, but not quite willing to gainsay him. She pointedly took a bite to keep from having to say more. Soul followed her example, and they ate in awkward silence for several minutes, both weapon and meister looking ridiculously uncomfortable.

"Well, this is going well," Liz muttered.

"Boooorrriiinnng!" Patti agreed.

"Calm down, people. My man Soul has more up his sleeve than this. Be a little fuckin' patient, "Black*Star responded, sounding almost offended.

"Whatever," Liz said, finishing with a yawn and picking at her nails as the view on the screen of two of her friends chewing methodically failed to retain her interest.

"I didn't realize that Italian place delivered," Maka finally broke the silence, and suddenly, all eyes were glued to the screen again, the closet hushed once more.

"Well, they don't, exactly," Soul admitted. "I may have called in a favor as the last death scythe." The last part he said quickly and quietly.

"Soul! You shouldn't be throwing your title around to—"

"Calm down," he put up his hand. "I was going to pick it up myself, but when the guy figured out who I was, he insisted, alright?"

"And the rest of this?" she waved her hand towards the table.

"Party rental place. Most people go out for this type of thing, so I actually got a discount." He shrugged. "You like it?"

"Um, yeah, it's nice, I guess," she said, eyes suddenly back down on her pasta. "Thanks," she mumbled, then took another bite.

"Cool, I'm glad you like it. You deserve it. Look, I know I suck at telling you this shit, but you're a good partner. So yeah, I'm glad." With that, he shoveled a bite into his own mouth and the awkward silence continued through the rest of dinner as they both cleaned their plates of pasta and polished off the bread basket.

The natives of Closet de Spartoi were getting restless again, having spent the last hour crammed into a tight space with very little to show for the effort, when Soul suddenly cleared his throat.

"So, uh, there's no desert since I know you made cupcakes and they're still at home, sorry about that."

"Oh, that's no problem!" she smiled, a genuinely happy smile. "I'm way too full for that anyway. It was really great! Does this mean we're going home to eat cupcakes and watch a movie like we usually do?" She seemed eager to resume some normalcy. "I picked up  _Maid in Manhattan_. I thought that would—"

"Um," he interrupted. "I mean, we could do that, maybe, but I was thinking we could do something else first." He looked very, very fidgety, which had the closet collective at the edge of their proverbial seats.

"Like?" That skeptical look was back.

"Um, dance? Imeanonlyifyouwantto-" the last part was forced out in a mumbled rush.

Maka's eyebrows shot to her hairline as her face went scarlet.

" _You_ … WANT… to dance?"

"Uh, if you'd like, I guess."

Soul's expression was so pained, so full of awkward embarrassment, that Black*Star snorted "smooth, dude, real smooth," under his breath as Patti offered up "Is he gonna puke? I think he's gonna puuuuke~!" and Kid just shook his head in something like sympathy. Kilik seemed about to say something as well, but Maka finally managed to stop biting her lip in thought and spoke again.

"Um, okay."

"Really?" It was Soul's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Yeah, really. I mean, I'm always bugging you to dance, and you never want to, except in the black room… so if you want to, sure, let's dance. It'll be good for our partnership, right?" She smiled shyly at him and Soul returned the smile.

"Right," he agreed, standing up and moving around the table to offer his hand, which she took.

"Kilik, the camera!" Liz hissed.

"Got it." he said as he was already clicking keys on the laptop. The camera zoomed out as the pair walked closer to the boombox, then zoomed back in to focus on their new position. There was still soft jazz coming from the speakers, so the weapon and meister moved into position and began to sway slowly to the music. Their words were harder to hear so far from the mic, but nonetheless audible.

"You still suck at this you know," Soul was grinning down at his partner. She smacked him playfully on the arm, but smiled back.

"Yeah, I know. I'll try not to murder your toes."

"You'd better," he scoffed. "I need those."

"For what?" It was her turn to scoff. "Lazing around on the couch?"

He chuckled. "You'd be surprised how much work it is to laze properly."

"I'm sure," she said dryly, but the smile remained.

Their banter trailed off into a more comfortable silence, each seeming to enjoy the dancing, the close proximity. The song changed a few minutes later to something slower, and Soul subtly shifted his dance partner closer, his chin practically grazing her forehead. She had slowly, so slowly, allowed her head to rest on his shoulder and they remained that way for a while.

"See?" Liz breathed from within the closet. "I FUCKING TOLD YOU!"

"Quiet down, geez. It's not like we weren't all totally fucking aware." Black*Star rolled his eyes. The look of contentment on both weapon and meister, their soft smiles as they thought they were alone, were absolutely telling.

"Do you think, perhaps, we've seen enough?" Kid, who had been uncharacteristically silent even for him, finally cut in quietly.

"No!" most of the group chimed in, except for Tsubaki, who offered. "Maybe Kid-sama is right. This seems very…  _intrusive._ "

Kid nodded, adding, "clearly, you have done what you meant to do and—"

"Like hell we have," Star cut him off. "This is the type of touchy feely shit they _always_  do and claim is totally normal. I wanna make damned sure we don't have to take matters into our own hands."

"And just how, pray tell, would you manage that?" the death god asked drily.

"I've got a plan b, dude. I always have a plan b. Now shut the fuck up and watch, I think—" He snapped his mouth shut as Maka's voice came through the speakers.

"…is nice, isn't it?" the scythe meister was saying. She had raised her head from her weapon's shoulders to look up into his eyes.

"Yeah," he agreed, and the fond look he gave her was so obvious that every girl in the room squealed in delight.

"Fuck, Soul man, you are so damned pussy whipped and you aren't even  _getting any_ ," Star murmured, earning a sharp look from his weapon. The blue-haired meister just smiled somewhat sheepishly. "Well it's true…" he mumbled.

"Shut UP, man," Kilik snapped. On the screen, Soul had pulled Maka closer and was murmuring something as he rested his chin on the top of her head, her face against his chest.

"…do this more often."

"I'm not the one who never wants to dance."

"Just don't like to put on a show. This is different," he insisted.

"Yeah, I guess it is," she conceded, burying her face closer into his chest. Soul's arms seemed to tighten around her even further, his own face buried in her hair.

"You gotta admit, our boy does have game when he decides to show up," Kilik finally said after the pair on screen had gone silent for several moments.

"If he  _really_  had game, he'd have planted one on her by now," Black*Star offered dismissively.

"Oh, like you did with Tsu, Casanova?" Kilik was raising an eyebrow.

"That's different. Tsu's my goddess. You don't rush a goddess—you let her come to you." Tsubaki actually snorted.

"What?" he looked at her with a hurt frown.

"Nothing, nothing," she smiled conciliatorily, but he was still looking at her expectantly, so she explained, her voice mild. "It's just, don't you think Soul thinks the same way? And that, if I hadn't finally kissed  _you_ , you'd still be in just the same place he is?"

"I—no—"

"Um,  _duh_ ," Patti laughed. "You two are both hopeless idiots,  _hello_. Mr. Giraffe has smoother moves, and he's made of paper." She rolled her eyes, still snickering. Kilik and Liz joined in, and Black*Star just groaned.

"SHUT UP, ALREADY. GODS DO THINGS IN THEIR OWN TIME! And anyway," he quieted slightly. "The music stopped." And it had, though for the moment, Maka and Soul were still dancing in the silence, lost in their own little world.

"This might be the sweetest thing I've ever seen," Liz said with an odd little smile while Patti made vomiting motions behind her, causing Black*Star to snort.

"Is  _this_  enough?" Kid drew the eyes of the group, but he was forgotten quickly when Kilik motioned to the monitor.

"They stopped dancing."

All eyes, even Kid's, returned to the screen, where Soul and Maka had finally pulled apart.

"No more music," Maka said softly as she looked up her partner.

"I could fix that."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow coyly.

"Yeah, I mean…" the neck scratching was back, signaling the return of nervous Soul. "One of the reasons I decided to do this here was, uh, because there's a music room. With a piano. And you're always wanting me to play, so—"

Maka was grinning widely. "You'll play—for me?"

"Well, yeah. That was sort of the point. I mean, I've been playing more anyway, but it's been a really long time since I've played for you, and I know how much you like it, for whatever reason, so I thought—"

"That would be great!" she said enthusiastically, grabbing his hand and tugging him after her. "Let's go!"

Soul stared after her with a slight headshake as he was towed along off screen.

"SHIT!" Liz swore.

"Don't worry, I've got this," Kilik smirked over at her, fiddling with the laptop. The second screen, which had been blank, suddenly lit up to show the empty music room complete with baby grand piano, while a third screen was zoomed in on the piano itself.

"How'd you—"

"Know? Star caught Soul making sure it was in tune, and we put two and two together," he shrugged.

"Have I told you lately that you're awesome?" Liz grinned at him.

"Nope, so feel free."

"You're awesome."

"I know," the pot meister agreed, fiddling with some keys on his laptop.

The closetgoers hushed again suddenly as tapping was heard from the speakers, signaling the approach of Maka's heels, and shortly after, both she and Soul came into view in the music room, Maka still tugging her weapon along until they neared the piano.

They stopped, and Maka turned to the scythe expectantly.

"Ready when you are," she smiled.

"Right…" he was anxious, hand going to rub his neck yet again, but nonetheless, he walked over to the bench and took a seat, lifting the fallboard and spreading his hands over the keys to try a few notes. He looked up at her with a nervous smile and then patted the bench next to him with one hand.

"Sit. It's your gift, after all," he said, turning his eyes pointedly to the keys. Maka obeyed, taking a seat on the bench beside him, and after a few deep breaths, Soul began to play. The music was nothing short of breathtaking. Rising and falling, ebbing and flowing, brief moments of crashing keys followed by light, hopeful notes.

"Wow," Maka breathed unheard, though the movement of her mouth was visible on the screen.

"Wow," various members of Spartoi echoed from their little room

The song lasted several minutes and Spartoi sat in stunned silence, their expressions of reverence a mirror to the look of the meister on the screen. Her weapon, for his part, had a look of intense concentration, but every so often, as the tone lightened into the highest register, he would glance at Maka and smile softly, eliciting a return smile and light blush. The music cast a sort of spell, the group in the closet unwilling or unable to look away. Finally, the piece trailed off into an end with a light flutter of high keys and he turned to Maka,

"That was…beautiful," she breathed, her face a mask of awe.

"That was you," his gaze was intense, his forehead shiny with the sweat that signaled his recent exertion; he always put everything into his playing. The camera hidden on the ceiling above the piano was doing its job, focusing in on their faces, and the entire closet cadre was hushed with expectation as meister and weapon held each other's eyes under the camera's knowing gaze.

"Soul," Maka said softly, turning to him and reaching her hand up to touch his cheek softly. He leaned into her touch but said nothing. "Why did you do this?"

"I told you," his voice was also soft. "I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you." His eyes flashed briefly with something like embarrassment again. "I mean, as a meister."

"This isn't the type of thing weapons do for their meisters, Soul," Maka's eyes never left his and he seemed equally trapped by her green-eyed gaze.

"I…" whatever else he was about to say was lost as their faces slowly gravitated towards each other. Their eyes closed as they let that gravitational pull take over, lips meeting lips in a soft, hesitant kiss.

Fortunately for them, they couldn't hear the cheer that went up from the utility closet at the contact, or it would have been broken off rather quickly. Black*Star actually fist pumped, Liz and Patti high fived, followed by Liz and Kilik repeating the motion, and even Tsubaki and Kid were grinning from ear to ear.

"Harvar and Ox fuckin' missed out!" Star declared with a shit-eating grin. " _I don't need to see that,_ " he said in a too high-pitched imitation of the spear meister. "Fuckin' loser, dude."

"I'd say Kim and Jackie missed out, too, but I have this odd suspicion they might be having more fun in Vegas." Liz smiled knowingly.

"Shhh—look! Sissy, sissy, look!"

All eyes refocused on the screen, where the weapon-meister pair had pulled closer together. Maka was practically in her scythe's lap, her hands tangled in his hair, and Soul's arms were tight around her. Their faces were angled, their kiss skirting further and further away from the realm of PG.

"We  _definitely_ should not—" Kid intoned.

"SHUT UP!" Everyone else but Tsubaki shouted, and the Shinigami just shook his head, though his eyes didn't leave the screen.

Before the kiss could cross over into clear use of tongue and roving hands, the two pulled apart, foreheads together, panting.

"That was…" Maka began.

"Nice," Soul finished for her.

"Yeah," she agreed.

"We should do that more often, too," the meister said with a shy little grin.

"Definitely," her weapon agreed, his grin more predatory as he pulled her closer with a little squeak on her part to kiss her again.  _That_  kiss definitely strayed into the use of tongue, and lasted several minutes before they, once again, pulled apart.

"We should probably get home before one of the professors finds us and kicks us out," Maka said with something like regret in her voice as she got up from her place in Soul's lap and stretched, eyes closing for a moment, leaving her oblivious to her weapon's hungry gaze roving up and down her lean frame. Spartoi was less oblivious, however, and Black*Star chuckled.

"My man is gonna be tryin' to get him some later, I'll bet," before Tsubaki elbowed him to shut him up. "Just sayin'," he muttered.

"SHHHH!" The rest of the closet collective hissed.

Soul was getting up and stretching himself. "Yeah, probably," he said finally. "Though, you know," the scythe suddenly looked thoughtful. "There's one thing I don't get."

Maka turned to him with a blank look. "What's that?"

"Well, um," the weapon looked hesitant.

"What is it, Soul?" She was getting impatient now, her mood shifting as she seemingly sensed his trepidation.

"It's just—and don't get me wrong, I'm glad we did this, really glad, but that thing you said about weapons not doing this type of thing for their meisters?"

"Yes?"

"Well, uh, that's not true, right?"

"What do you mean?" Her patience was gone, her suspicion rising. The tension was palpable, both in the music room and the utility closet.

"Well, um, it's tradition, right? In Death City? To, you know, do something special for your meister or weapon for Valentine's Day? Look, I  _know_  I totally screwed it up for most of our partnership, but—"

" _What the hell are you talking about?"_  Maka was definitely annoyed now, one high-heeled foot tapping impatiently against the parquet floor.

"Um," he ran his hand through his hair, nervousness graduating into agitation. "Weapons and meisters. They make a big deal for Valentine's Day, like Kid taking Patti and Liz to Cancun, and—"

"Soul," his meister said, clearly trying to keep her voice even and not snap. "That is  _not_  normal. Partners  _do not_ do those types of things on Valentine's Day. Some partners do little things, like people might do for their parents or good friends, but they don't—they don't…" she trailed off, reddening. "Is  _that_  why you did all that?" Her voice was tight, controlled.

"Uhhh…." His hand was raking through his hair again.

"Who gave you the idea that this is what weapons do for their meisters?"

"Uhhh…" He seemed unable to use coherent language at this point, his meister's livid face at the center of his world.

"WHO. TOLD YOU. THAT YOU SHOULD DO THIS?"

"Uhhhh, well, Star was—"

"BLACK*STAR!" She shrieked, her eyes going glassy for a moment, before she turned on her heel to speed from the room.

"Oh, fuck," Star muttered from his place by the screen. "I think—"

"SHHH!"

Maka had turned around again before she made it off camera, fists clenched, to face her clearly confused weapon, taking in several calming breaths.

"I'm not mad at you. I had a really,  _really_  good time. But before we can go home and watch that movie, and I  _do_  want to go home and watch that movie, I have an assassin—" her eyes went glassy again for a moment, and then she shook her head slightly "—no, make that half of Spartoi and a newly minted death god, to kill." She smiled sweetly at her weapon before that smile became dangerous, then hurried out the door. Soul just stood there, dumbfounded, staring after her for a few moments, shaking his head. Then, a moment later, his own fists clenched, his mouth flattened into an angry line, and he growled "Fuckin' Star, I'll kill him myself," before he also hurried out of the room.

The closet collective stared at the empty screen for several moments before Star finally broke the silence.

"Uh, guys? I'm pretty sure Maka's on her way over here to kill us, so we should probably scatter."

"We have two minutes," Kid agreed. "Probably less. Liz, Patti?" The two pistols transformed into his hands and he summoned Beelzebub and sped out of the room, likely to hole up in the death room.

"I'll just leave this stuff here for now," Kilik said, hurrying away himself, leaving behind Tsubaki and Black*Star.

"Uhh—Tsu?"

"I did warn you," she shook her head, but transformed into his waiting hand. He ran out into the hall, using every ounce of his godly speed to high tail it out of there.

In an unfortunate turn of events, at least, unfortunate for the fellowship of the closet, Soul caught up with Maka at the utility room shortly after Black*Star had fled and, as they saw the equipment and the view the cameras held, their joint displeasure spurred them into further action. Drawing on every ounce of their collective power, they hunted down their far-flung quarry. Maka chops were had by all in abundance that fateful night, and by the time the anger of both death scythe and meister was spent and they collapsed onto their living room couch, their dirty work done, both were exhausted.

Even still, they curled up together and fed each other cupcakes and snickered at the ridiculousness that was  _Maid in Manhattan_ and ended the evening late with a lingering goodnight kiss that promised far more like it in the future. In spite of everything, neither of them could regret their night, and both agreed it had been one hell of a Valentine's Day.


	2. The Valentine

There is an card in her locker and she doesn't know what to make of it. The mountain of such cards that tumbles out as her partner opens his own locker is common, expected even. But this? It is February 14th, Valentine's Day, and the last thing in the world Maka expects is a large square envelope made of expensive looking pressed paper, her name on the front written in a hand so painstakingly neat it could pass for calligraphy.

"What's that?" her partner asks with raised eyebrows as he leans against his own locker and eyes the paper in her hand. Soul has already unceremoniously dumped his own haul of perfumed envelopes, though she notices a few sealed boxes of chocolate under his arms. Candy always gets kept-waste not, want not.

"Not sure. Maybe a partner request." She does get them sometimes. Most people don't bother since she wields a deathscythe; why would she want another weapon? She does get some, though. Unlike Soul, she actually reads them all since someone took the time to write them, penning a polite refusal. It's not like hers are the gross proposals he often gets. No one is throwing themselves at her, though she has been asked on a date or two in person. She refuses those as well. Why should she date? She is perfectly happy as she is, thank you very much.

Maka flips the envelope, running her nail under the seam. The envelope is so nice compared to what she normally gets, more like one of the letters meant for Soul, and it's certainly odd it came today of all days. She might think someone put it in the wrong locker but for it being addressed to her, and as she pulls out a large, soft, heart shaped Valentine, she is even more convinced this must be a mistake. Soul clears his throat from her side and she glares at him.

"What?"

"What is it?"

"A valentine."

"Seriously?" he scoffs.

Her eyeroll is in place of the book she wants to bean him with. "Yes, seriously. What, just because you think I've got no sex appeal or whatever no one can find me attractive?" It's her turn to scoff. "I get asked out-I'm not hideous. Not everyone subscribes to the Soul Evans school of big boobs or bust."

"Wha-I never said-I mean-" His sputtering is admittedly gratifying. Sure it would be nice if he thought she was appealing, but she'll take showing him not everyone is so shallow over nothing.

No, that's wrong. He's not shallow, she knows that. He hasn't dated anyone, and it's not like the type of woman he has always claimed to prefer hasn't tried. Honestly, Maka doesn't know what he is, but it's still nice to feel like someone finds her attractive, even if it isn't the person who she wants to succumb to her admittedly minimal charms. Even if she's only going to have to turn them down because she's painfully uninterested in anyone else.

She sighs as she inspects the Valentine in her hand. The front says Be Mine? in large, fancy script. Flipping it, she finds a message written on the back:

_Meet me at the fountain in the center of Market Square at 5._

It is unsigned, and she doesn't recognize the hand. Strange.

"So?" Soul's voice startles her; he has moved closer to read over her shoulder and she feels guilty somehow or ashamed and _why should she feel either?_

"So what?" she snaps, her irritation less at him than at the feelings that have no right to plague her.

"So are you gonna go?" His expression is blank, revealing nothing. She might wish he cared-jealousy would be a welcome indication he felt something for her beyond their friendship-but of course he is as bored sounding as ever.

"Maybe." She shrugs, stuffing the Valentine back in her locker and closing it behind her. Pushing off the lockers to walk towards their next class, she hears her partner fall into step beside her, the barest hint of concern seeping through their soul link. There is more behind it, but he keeps it close. The concern is enough to give her pause. Why should he be concerned? She can take care of herself, and hell, isn't she entitled to an admirer or two when he has so many? She doesn't need his concern.

"Actually," she says as they near the classroom. "I think I'll go."

Ignoring the spike of his disbelief that clouds their link, Maka walks into the classroom, head held high.

Hours later and she is arguing with her weapon on the steps of the Academy, drawing the stares of passing students and teachers alike. There aren't many-school has been out for an hour-but it's enough that she knows Soul is uncomfortable. Good, let them all stare. Serves him right for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.

"So you're going to, what, go on a date with-it could be _anyone_ , Maka!" His voice is low but emphatic and it annoys her beyond measure. It's not _because_ he cares but _why_ he cares, acting as though she can't handle herself. She wishes he cared for other reasons, but he doesn't, and that annoys her, too-unfairly, maybe, but she never asked for his concern in the first place.

"It's none of your business, Soul, we've established that. Now if you'll excuse me-"

"At least let me take you on the bike." It's a plea, a last effort at exercising some form of control over a situation that isn't his to alter.

"No." It's firm, incontrovertible. "And don't wait up!" she calls over her shoulder. She doesn't mean it-but the renewed jolt of concern she feels from him is satisfying.

The market square is only a twenty minute walk from school and she relishes the slight cool of the desert evening in Winter. Her smug satisfaction of leaving her weapon behind fades as she goes, and Maka feels guilt and something like regret. Nervous anticipation churns hot and sick in her stomach. Whoever wrote this, they are about to be let down, and witnessing the disappointment of others has never been something she relishes. She knows first hand what it's like to have one sided feelings, but that doesn't change what she must do. Telling herself that doing it in person is a kindness, Maka steels herself as she approaches the fountain.

There are people there-the square is crowded-but most are couples. One stands out, however, tall, dark skinned, with long dark hair. Maka knows her, vaguely, knows her name is Kaya and that she is an EAT weapon, a pole axe, from the class down, though she is a year older. She smiles broadly and waves as Maka approaches. The girl is absolutely stunning, the object of the affections of dozens of boys and several girls Maka could name. And yet-she's here and now. _Why_?

"I'm so glad you came!" she says as Maka walks up to face her, her smile widening. It's breathtaking, and Maka can understand how so many are entranced by her even if she doesn't feel it herself. Not only does the girl have a lovely exterior, but a beautiful soul.

"Is this yours?" Maka asks as she pulls the Valentine from her bag.

The girl shakes her head once. "No, it's yours. That's why you're here, right?"

Maka can't stifle her sigh. "Yes." She is quick to head off any hope. "But only to return it. I appreciate it, but I really can't accept, I'm sorry."

The wide smile flips, and the frown is both deep and thoughtful as the girl studies her. "Why?"

It's a simple question. The answer is anything but.

"I'm not interested in dating." It's a well rehearsed response, used before for both rare suitors and concerned friends alike.

The frown deepens. Her eyes look so sad, so defeated that Maka wants to look away. She doesn't. She caused this pain, unintentionally though it was, so she will face it down. "It's _him_ , isn't it?" The weapons voice is quiet.

Maka's mouth opens wordlessly in her surprise. She shakes her head. The other times, this was when they left. "Who?" she asks stupidly.

The eyeroll she gets in response is at least half earned. "Your weapon, who else? I'm not an idiot. But I also know he's never made a move and if he won't, why not give someone else a shot? You deserve someone who will make you happy. I could be that someone, I know I could. You've just gotta be willing to let me try."

At the mention, Maka is reminded that she feels her weapon's soul nearby, has for several minutes though she's been preoccupied. He's followed her. She feels his eyes on her and she is so torn. Maybe this girl is right, maybe someone else deserves a chance, but her heart won't allow it. It's stupid, so stupid, to refuse a chance at happiness with someone who shines so brightly, who feels so deeply for something that is an illusion, something that only she feels, but she must. Her heart is long lost and the idea of happiness with someone else is foreign, impossible. Her partnership with the one who owns her soul, it is enough because it _has to be._ There can be nothing else, not anymore, not for her.

She shakes her head and lets out a long breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I just- _can't_."

The girl nods. She looks both broken and resolved and Maka aches for her. "I hope he gets off his ass. You deserve to be happy."

He won't-they aren't like that, he isn't like that, not with her or anyone seemingly-but she nods anyway because she doesn't know what else to do. And then the other girl is gone, disappeared into the crowd, and Maka is left holding the Valentine that now represents courage unrewarded. The girl deserves better, and Maka is sorry she can't give her what she wants.

Sucking in several breaths, she walks to the edge of the fountain. "I know you're there," she says without turning around.

The deep sigh is close, only several feet back. Maka turns to sit and sees her weapon approaching. He sits beside her, bumping his shoulder casually with his own. "Hey."

"Hey," she replies. "You're supposed to be home. Didn't realize you were a stalker now."

"Not a stalker, just worried. And I know you can take care of yourself Maka, trust me, I know, but it doesn't mean you always have to. I'm your partner. 'S my job to look out for you."

She doesn't feel like arguing, especially when she can feel the affection rolling off him, so she doesn't. "Whatever."

"You okay?" he says after a short pause. Her response is a shrug. "Why'd you turn her down?"

Another shrug. "Not interested."

"Was she right?" His voice is soft, careful.

She snaps her head to look at him, stunned. "What?"

"She said you were-you had feelings for someone else." His face is blank but he's pink and his soul is cautious.

"You heard that?"

"I heard that. Deathscythe with sound manipulation, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"So?"

"So nothing.

"You didn't deny it."

Her response is yet another shrug

"Is that a yes?"

"It's none of your business, I've told you that." She returns her gaze out to the crowd. His soul is so _guarded_ that she doesn't know what he wants -why is he pushing this? It could ruin everything, ruin _them_.

"Pretty sure it's my business if you have feelings for me, too. Definitely want it to be my business." His voice is low, tense.

"Why are you pushing this?" She looks at him and it's him looking out and away now. "Why do you _care_ how I feel?" She can't help but think she missed something because she feels disappointment welling up in him unexpectedly. "Wait-did you say _too_?"

"I did." The annoyance turns to fear. He's still looking at the crowd.

"As in, you have feelings for me?"

It's his turn to shrug and she growls her frustration. His grin is nervous as he finally turns red eyes her way. "Turnabout is fair play."

"Oh, shove it, Eater and answer the damn question."

"What question?"

"Soul." Her tone is a warning and he sighs.

"Yes," his grin fades and his eyes are seeking. "Okay? Yes."

She nods and she feels sick and warm and confused. Is this happiness? She doesn't know. Soul has feelings for her, the same kind she has for him, and it doesn't make _sense_ because he's never shown it, but it is clearly so nonetheless and now she has no idea what to do.

"Okay." She marshals her bravery, steels herself, meets his searching gaze head on. "Me too, then."

The surge of warmth from him is all the answer she needs. Somehow they feel the same thing. It's so impossible and obvious and _how had she missed it_? She guesses they were both afraid. Maka isn't afraid anymore.

She moves her head over and up and kisses him, a soft, brief peck on the mouth. It's something she's wanted to do for years. The kiss is even warmer than she thought it'd be and his stunned, goofy smile is priceless as she pulls away and pushes the paper from her hand into his.

"Wha?" He looks down, surprised.

"Read it."

"Are you-giving me your used Valentine?"

She shrugs. "Message still stands. So?"

"Be yours? Already am, so yeah. How 'bout you?" He pushes it back at her.

"You're giving me a third hand Valentine?" She raises her eyebrows.

"Message still stands."

Her laugh is only a little giddy. "Then yeah. If you can stand my flat chest and all."

He makes a strangled noise, looking pained. "I was fourteen. _Fourteen_. Everyone's an idiot at fourteen. Even _you_ were an idiot at fourteen." He eyes her warily. "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope!" she sings out. "But I'll let you make it up to me." Her grin is so wide it aches as she moves in for a second kiss, a little longer, a little less chaste.

The next day, Maka finds Kaya, thanks her, and introduces her to Tsubaki. Years later, Maka and Soul attend their wedding.

The Valentine they frame, and it holds a place of honor in their bedroom. It had, after all, brought them together.


End file.
